


It's called Christmas Spirit

by little_miss_chaos



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Steve is working for SHIELD, Superfamily, and on a mission just before Christmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:42:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21958324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/little_miss_chaos/pseuds/little_miss_chaos
Summary: Thirteen days. It had been thirteen days since - Tony knew not to count, but he couldn’t help it. Thirteen was… it was a lot, ok? They had taken more before, sure, but it was December for God’s sake!“Can we talk to Papa today?”Peter’s voice was so small, like it was every time he asked when his Papa was gone. And every time it broke Tony’s heart a little more.He put up a smile, though he strongly suspected it was too sad. Peter saw through such things scarily easily.“I’m sorry, honey, but I don’t think so. Papa will call when he has the time, though. You know that.”
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 2
Kudos: 167





	It's called Christmas Spirit

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT 18/03/2020: now beta'd and revised! Enjoy!

Thirteen days. It had been thirteen days since - Tony knew not to count, but he couldn’t help it. Thirteen was… it was a lot, ok? They had taken more before, sure, but it was December for God’s sake!

“Can we talk to Papa today?”

Peter’s voice was so small, like it was every time he asked when his Papa was gone. And every time it broke Tony’s heart a little more.

He put up a smile, though he strongly suspected it was too sad. Peter saw through such things scarily easily.

“I’m sorry, honey, but I don’t think so. Papa will call when he has the time, though. You know that.”

Peter pouted, his bottom lip quivering. Yeah, he’d seen through that lie right away. Tony hadn’t expected it any other way, wouldn’t want his son any differently. He was on the brink of tears, though, and Tony knew he couldn’t help his baby’s sorrow right now. There wasn’t a lot out of his reach, being Tony Stark and Iron Man, but sadly, this was. Tony would’ve given most of his fortune without thinking about it twice to make that wish true, but he… couldn’t.

He opened his arms, beckoning the young boy to climb into his lap.

“Come here.”

Peter thankfully didn’t hesitate. His bottom lip was still trembling. It only caused Tony to tighten his arms around his son. He hated seeing Peter in pain. Maybe he might spoil the kid, but he didn’t care. Peter had to go through a childhood of one parent mostly missing. Wasn’t that enough? No, now his Papa had decided to take on another damn mission.

_One last for this year_ , he’d said. _It’ll only be a week or two. I promise._

That had been nineteen days ago. And Tony hadn’t heard a word from him in thirteen now.

Sitting on the couch, his nose buried in his son’s soft hair, Tony whispered, “I know you miss him.” There was a quiet trembling running through the small body in his arms. “I miss him, too, you know?”

“He’s not going to call. Right, Daddy? He’s not even-“

“Hey.” Tony turned him around in his arms so he could look at the boy. Gently, he framed Peter’s face, softly brushing the tears - goddamn tears! - running down his cheeks away with his thumbs. “None of that. He’ll be here. He promised, remember?”

At times like these, when he had to look at their son and the heart-broken look in his eyes, his quivering bottom lip and on the verge of tears, Tony could throttle Steve, scream at him, hammer against his perfectly shaped chest. Tony shouldn’t be doing this and his husband should damn well be at home, spending his time with them!

None of that he could show on the outside, at least not in front of Peter. Tony could take not seeing his husband for two weeks, nearly four as of right now, even though it was hard. He could understand that. But Peter didn’t, and how could he? All the kid saw was that his Papa was away on missions all the time. Missions he didn’t need to do because Tony was a fucking billionaire! Not that that counted where freedom and justice were concerned. Tony understood that, too, to some degree at least. He didn’t have to like it, though.

“How about,” Tony started slowly when he had his own emotions under enough control and felt like he could regulate Peter’s, “we record a message with FRIDAY’s help and send it to Papa? So that he knows we’re thinking about him? How’s that sound?” He managed a watery smile that Peter didn’t return. His reaction wasn’t as docile as Tony’d have expected. The small boy’s face was suddenly hard and twisted in a scowl as he tried to push away from Tony (which Tony obviously didn’t allow since it would’ve sent him straight off his lap and to the ground).

In his growing anger Peter only pushed at him harder, started hammering his little fists on Tony’s chest.

“He won’t watch it anyway! He never calls and he never watches the videos! I heard you say it on the phone!”

For a moment Tony was struck. He hadn’t said that - or had he? He couldn’t remember. Far worse though, was that Peter had obviously heard it. Now, he had to save what was left to save.

“Listen, Pete,” he started, but was interrupted right away with another round of ‘no’s and little fists hammering into his chest. It took Tony awhile to get ahold of the small hands, but in the end he had one of the kid’s gently in his.

“Listen, Pete,” Tony repeated. “I don’t know what you think you’ve heard. But I do know for sure that Papa watches the videos. When he has the time he calls. Which sadly isn’t often, but it’s what we have. But he definitely watches the videos, trust me on that.”

Wide eyes with tears in them stared at Tony. They studied him for a second, probably trying to determine if he could believe him or not, but in the end, he only started struggling again.

Tony let Peter break away from him. He made sure the kid didn’t fall or otherwise hurt himself, but let him storm off in his anger. For a moment he watched the kid, but in the end couldn’t hold back the heavy sigh.

They were four days away from Christmas Eve and Steve had _promised_. He had to cling to that promise, that hope that he would still show up. Even through two weeks of radio silence.

Peter didn’t talk to him for the rest of the afternoon, burying himself in his room and occupying himself with toys and tools alike. The grim expression that looked totally wrong on the kid’s usually so happy face stayed.

Tony couldn’t decide what emotion weighed out the others. Hurt, anger, disappointment and worry all swirled together in his stomach. It was a bad time getting in front of a screen and recording a message, he knew that, cognitively, but he did it nevertheless.

“Hey darling.” He paused. He actually had no idea how to say what he wanted to say. A rare occurrence in and of itself, Tony Stark not knowing what to say. He sighed, dragged a hand over his face, threw another look at the monitor where FRIDAY had displayed Peter’s room. The kid was still playing and he was still sullen. Damn.

“I… I actually don’t know what to say,” he finally started, remembering their rules about communication, especially where feelings were concerned. He bit his lip, trying to will back the tears. For the moment he succeeded.

“I just…” Nope, enough of feelings for the moment. Change of topic. “Pete’s having a real hard time. He accused me of siding with you because I dared to say that you actually watch these little recordings we’re sending regularly and that you think about us as much as we do about you. He apparently doesn’t think so, at least not anymore, and frankly after two weeks of total radio silence, I kind of start to think that, too.” He sighed. “I guess he misses his Papa. I - _we_ miss you, babe.” Another sigh that he couldn’t stop. He bit his lip again, but even though he tried really hard to hold it back, the words left his mouth in a barely suppressed murmur. “You shouldn’t have taken that mission.” Which was immediately followed by, “Crap. I didn’t want to say that. I’m sorry, I know how important this stuff is to you, it’s just…” He hid his eyes behind his hands. “Being a single parent most of the time is just… hard, I guess.” Shortly his gaze snapped to the other monitor where - Tony felt the blood in his veins turn to ice. Pete was gone.

Cursing colorfully he fully focused on the screen, was ready to yell at his AI why she hadn’t alerted him that the kid had taken a walk through the penthouse when a small voice behind him made him pause.

“Daddy?”

Tony spun around on his chair, facing his son. Peter stood in the workshop, _barefoot_ _on the cold tiled floor_ and with his Cap plushie tightly clutched to his chest, his eyes wide and staring at Tony innocently. _Thank God._

“Hi kid.” He needed a moment to clear his head enough to forget his previous panic about Peter’s whereabouts before he motioned for the kid to come closer. Which Peter did without hesitation. Thank God for small miracles.

As he lifted Peter onto his lap he put up a smile for his son. “What are you doing down here? And without socks or shoes?” The scolding tone had made itself at home in his voice. A side effect of having the kid for almost six years now, Tony suspected.

Peter blinked a couple of times, eyes darting over Tony’s face and their surroundings as if he couldn’t look his Daddy in the eyes. He buried his face in the Cap doll, like he wanted to block everything out, but a moment later he had to come up for air. The question rushed out right after, totally ignoring Tony’s questions.

“Are you talking to Papa?”

Clever kid. He must’ve connected the dots: Tony sitting in front of a holo-screen, their previous conversation and - Tony’s heart jumped a couple of extra beats ahead - and the still blinking red dot in the upper right corner. The message was still recording.

“It’s just… it’s only a message, kid.” He made a gesture towards the screen. “You want to say something, too?”

Peter was still staring at him with big eyes, but in the end nodded.

Encouragingly he nudged Peter towards the screen. “Well, then go on.” He tried to smile, for Peter’s sake, but the boy didn’t even look at him. He only stared at the screen. In the reflection Tony could see his worried face, even though it was still halfway buried in his Cap doll.

“Don’t know what to say.” His voice was barely more than a whisper. All Tony could do was tightening his arms around his son for comfort.

“It’s ok, baby. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to or can’t think of something. You can just sit here with me and show Papa you’re there. That ok?”

It broke Tony’s heart to see his son so crestfallen, even though he bravely nodded. And all just because he didn’t know what to say. The anger probably showed in his heated stare he threw over Peter’s head into the camera. Steve should by all means see that Tony was unhappy with him being away for such long periods of time most of the year. So long in fact that it started to affect his relationship with their son.

But that was a talk between the adults, once Steve was finally back from that damn mission. Now, Tony had to make light small talk with the camera for their son.

“So I was just talking about what we’re planning for-“

“You were talking about something hard,” Peter interrupted, looking much too serious for a preschooler. “You were talking about being alone. I heard, Daddy. Am I that bad? If I am I promise to be better. I can be better, Daddy, I know I can. Just please don’t be sad anymore.”

“Oh, Pete, that’s not-“ Tony took a deep breath. Gently he turned Peter around in his lap, brushing Peter’s cheeks softly with his thumbs. “You’re not- It’s not because of you, baby. I just… I was…” The words got stuck in his throat and wasn’t that just wonderful. “I… I just miss Papa.”

Tears were welling up in his eyes. He turned away for a moment to not let Peter see them. It was enough that Tony himself knew how hooked he was on Steve. Pete didn’t need to know how bad it actually was. He had to be strong for their son, trying to lift the worries from his small shoulders. He was only _five_ , for God’s sake. He shouldn’t have to deal with something like -

When little arms closed around his chest, the Cap plushie squeezed between them, it didn’t lighten any of the pain that had started to make itself a home there. And it had nothing to do with the usual hole from where the arc reactor used to be.

“I miss him, too, Daddy,” Pete mumbled.

Tony had enough control over his emotions that he didn’t outright start bawling. But he couldn’t help squeezing his son back and burying his nose in the soft brown locks.

For a moment time stood still. All that was missing was Steve.

Tony tried to push it all down, tried to concentrate on _here_ and _now_ , with his son safely wrapped in his arms, but the traitorous nook in his heart missed another pair of arms slung around him so badly. He knew that it was a big parent no-no to rely on your kids for comfort, he’d read that in the countless parenting books years ago, and Tony would reverse their roles back to normal in a second, but for that one moment he just clung to Peter in his arms.

“Daddy?” Peter’s voice was soft, but when Tony made some agreeing noise, he continued. “You’re allowed to miss him, too.” It sounded like he wanted to say more, but somehow couldn’t bring himself to. Tony waited it out, gave him the time he needed. In the end, Peter added in one long breath, “Last week Miss Knight said it’s alright to miss your friends when you can’t see them in preschool or for a play date and it’s the same with Papa, isn’t it? Right?”

“Of course it’s ok, Pete. I know he’s away a lot and when he’s here sometimes I have to go on business trips.” He sighed. SI business was finished for the year. Pepper had kicked him out of her office with a snide comment about how he’d done his duty and that he should take care of his family, work could wait until January. But it would come, even though Tony’d made it a policy that he’d only be at the meetings he absolutely had to attend since otherwise Pepper would have his head. The rest of the time his little family was priority #1.

Peter continued as if Tony hadn’t said anything at all. “It’s ok to feel sad when they’re not around, and I feel sad that Papa’s not here. And you feel sad, too, and that’s alright. It’s normal to miss someone you like.”

“God.” It was out in a whisper against Peter’s hair before Tony could stop it. “You’re only five - how can you be so insightful?”

“I’m clever.” The smile was obvious in his voice. Tony didn’t need to look to hear it. “Miss Knight says so. And you and Papa say it, too, sometimes.”

At times like these Tony could almost hear Steve chuckle in the background and tell him that Peter was definitely Tony’s son. That smug tone screamed Stark in such a typical way, it would be obvious to everyone.

“Well, we should say it more often then, since it’s very much true.”

He pulled back a little, looking at his son. Tony swiped the kid’s brown hair out of his face and placed a kiss on the top of his head.

“How about,” he suggested as a way of distraction, “we go upstairs and see what’s left in the fridge for dinner?”

The kid nodded after thinking it through for a moment, clearly sensing the diversion, but accepting it nevertheless. He picked Peter up even though he was heavy and Tony wasn’t the youngest anymore, much to his dismay, and closed down the holo-screen in front of them. They would get through Christmas time somehow, even without Steve.

//

Tony had put off setting up the tree for as long as possible. But now it was Christmas Eve, already past noon, and Peter was getting restless, seeing as the tree wasn’t yet up.

Tony didn’t know where the kid got that from, but he wanted Christmas to be perfect. This year it wouldn’t be. His Papa still wasn’t home.

Sighing heavily Tony took a couple of steps back and eyed his work. Tilting his head a little to the side his hands wandered towards his hips.

“What do you think?”

He looked down to see Peter had mirrored his pose. Patiently he waited for the kid’s verdict.

“A little to the right,” it finally came. Tony nodded before stepping up to the tree again and pulling it a little to the right, just like his son had told him to.

“How ‘bout now?”

“Straight as Uncle Clint!” Peter grinned broadly. Tony couldn’t help but return it. And hadn’t he taught that expression to the kid himself he would’ve been scandalized. Birdbrain sure had been the first time he’d heard it before he’d broken out in laughter that continued for the better part of team/family dinner.

“Then we’re good to go.”

Together they got out the Christmas decorations and started to turn the boring green thing into something to rival Peter’s Uncle Bruce - spectacular and full of color. On the outside Peter was excited, but Tony could sense something, or rather someone, was missing dearly.

He tried to make light conversation, cheer the kid up a little, or at least distract him, and for the most part of the afternoon it worked. Until he brought over the fresh branches, including some mistletoe.

Staring at him intently with wide eyes, Peter stilled noticeably so suddenly Tony was instantly worried.

“Hey Pete, what’s wrong?”

He looked like a deer caught in headlights. “Nothing,” he squeaked.

Tony sighed. “Don’t fool me, kid.”

Peter only shook his head, shock of hair flying around wildly. Absently Tony thought the kid should get a haircut soon. He watched, both suspicious and intrigued, as Peter seemed suddenly _very_ busy with the decorations that were supposed to go on the tree.

Dropping his hands Tony got the feeling that it wasn’t anything bad, per se, but something he tried to hide from his Daddy. “Pete?”

Again, Peter only shook his head, mumbled something about needing the tree to be pretty. Tony thought maybe he missed his Papa even more than he let on. As the artsy type in their family it usually was Steve’s part decorating the house in December and the tree a couple of days before Christmas. Usually Peter was the best little helper he could ever have, according to Steve. Much better than Tony had ever been, as he’d told his husband in a quiet moment a couple of years back. Tony had sulked for about three minutes. Was he to blame for the fact that he had never participated in decorating a Christmas tree in his life until Steve had barged in? He hadn’t thought so. Didn’t think so still.

Anyway, it was his boys’ duty to decorate their home and now Steve wasn’t here to help. Of course that got to the kid. Tony swallowed thickly.

They spent about half a minute in silence until the kid shoved the mistletoe into Tony’s hands, saying something about hanging that in the doorway. Tony was still suspicious/worried where the kid was going with this, but did as he was told nevertheless.

Or tried to, at least. He hadn’t calculated that it was usually Steve’s job to hang those damn branches up into one of the doorways. That Tony had designed unusually high in some kind of genius crackpot idea. Because _he_ couldn’t reach the nail that they’d put there a few years back and hadn’t taken out since where that damn twig needed to go.

He tried nevertheless, _for Peter_. Actually, he was this close to getting a freaking stool when Peter said in a quiet voice, “You should let Papa help you.”

Tony felt his already pretty crappy mood fall even further. “Baby, Papa’s not here.” He hated disappointing his son like that, hated that _Steve_ disappointed their son like that - the first Christmas the kid might actually remember and one of the most important people in his life was missing! “And honestly? I don’t know if he’s going to make it.”

“You sure about that?” a deep voice suddenly rumbled in his ear. Tony froze. What. No, that couldn’t be - it couldn’t be Steve, his Steve -

Without thinking he spun around, wrapping himself in tinsel halfway, but Tony couldn’t care less about that. Right in front of him stood, in flesh and blood, Steve Rogers, his husband, and smiled at him.

“Hi,” Steve breathed, a careful smile on his lips.

Tony didn’t know what to say, was lost for words, and that was a rare occasion as it was. He couldn’t believe that what he’d actually hoped for, the only thing he’d wished for this year, seemed to become true right that instant.

“Don’t I get a hello kiss?” Steve motioned to the mistletoe still in Tony’s hand, long forgotten. Dumbly Tony’s eyes wandered to the branch, then back to his husband. It finally spurred his brain into action.

“How long have you been standing there watching me making a fool on myself in front of our son?”

Steve just laughed, heartily, left arm slung around his middle, and it sounded like bells. Tony didn’t care how cheesy that sounded, but Steve’s heartfelt laugh was lighting up the whole room, including his chest and the cavity where his artificial heart had once been.

When he’d calmed down somewhat Steve added, “Only you, Tony Stark,” he came closer, still showing off those perfectly white teeth in a huge grin, “can manage such a sentence while your brain short circuits out.” His hand landed gently on Tony’s cheek and pulled him closer. Tony let him, mistletoe in his hand completely forgotten.

When their lips finally met Tony couldn’t help the happy little sigh that escaped his lungs. He’d missed Steve’s lips and his mouth and his everything so damn much, he just wanted to crawl into him and stay there forever. But Steve, the spoilsport, kept the kiss chaste. Much to Tony’s anger and simultaneous relief because as he wanted to lose himself fully in the kiss, Peter made some strange noise.

Tony didn’t exactly flinch back, he was much too reluctant to pull away from his husband for that, but Steve was enough of a parent that he made the decision to not completely lose it _in front of their son_ for Tony.

“Papa, you’re supposed to stand _under_ the mistletoe before you kiss Daddy!”

“Well, we can’t have that, now, can we?”

Still grinning, he held out his hand. Tony was still so struck that for a moment he didn’t know what to do. Steve had already raised his eyebrows when the genius’ brain caught up with the fact that he was still holding the mistletoe in his hand.

Steve didn’t leave his personal space while stretching up to hang the mistletoe. Under different circumstances Tony would’ve found it hot that he did it one-handed, but the accompanied flinch made him pause and frown. Steve never flinched, at least not from simple physical tasks like hanging up a damn mistletoe.

Gently, his hand landed on Steve’s left arm. The flinch this caused had definitely been worse than the previous one. Tony frowned, worry rising high in his chest.

“Steve, what’s-?”

“Not now,” he whispered, half-way into his Captain America voice, and Tony knew something was deeply wrong. Something that Steve didn’t want to address. But Tony wouldn’t have that. He knew what it looked like when his husband was severely injured and as much as he obviously tried to hide it, Tony saw right through him.

For Peter’s sake he leaned in closer again, pretended to embrace Steve, but in reality he methodically checked him over for wounds and bandages.

“You’re not going to find anything,” Steve whispered into Tony’s hair and that didn’t sound reassuring. _At. All._

“Then you should be getting checked over all the more!” He couldn’t help that his voice sounded shrill, even though he was still only whisper-shouting.

It really was Steve’s luck that Peter decided he wanted in on the cuddling now, too, because otherwise Tony would’ve given him another piece of his mind right then and there. The kid collided with their legs and Steve swayed uncharacteristically. Tony felt the need to support and steady his husband. But since he was Tony Stark he made it look casual.

“Papa! You’re back!” He only reached up to Steve’s hips, but he managed to bury his face in Steve’s abdomen immediately nonetheless. Tony clearly saw him wince in pain this time.

“Hey buddy,” Steve pressed out through clenched teeth. Tony was this shy of ripping the kid away from him, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck and dragging him off to the med wing five floors down. Steve only shrugged Tony’s death glare off with one shoulder before leaning in again.

“The serum’s already taking care of it. Stop worrying.” Again, whispered into the side of his face where Peter couldn’t hear. The boy was already babbling in rapid fire speech he must’ve inherited from Tony, wasn’t really paying attention to the two of them, but already planning out their Christmas anew. Tony only glared at Steve when Peter had finally turned his back on them, bouncing happily over to the Christmas tree and dragging his Papa along with him, now that he finally had him back.

Softly Steve kissed him on the lips like he was hoping it was enough to tune down Tony’s latent anger, but oh boy was he wrong about that. Tony was hot on his heels, following his boys. He already went through all the possible injuries Steve could suffer from internally, starting with tissue damage and broken ribs right through to internal bleeding. And yet again Steve stopped his thoughts with a kiss, deeper and more intense this time. It worked to distract Tony for about seven seconds before he pushed at Steve’s chest with a sour look. Steve only looked smug, though he did place another kiss on Tony’s cheek as if he wanted to apologize.

“I can feel you’re overthinking it. It’s Christmas Eve, babe. Let that high-functioning brain of yours have some holiday time, too.”

“Yeah, Daddy!” Peter chimed in and for a second Tony was disappointed. Pete was his kid, he was spending most of his time with him, helped with self-imposed homework that you didn’t have in preschool yet, but that Peter wanted to do nevertheless, and now he sided with his Papa? Disappointed didn’t even cover it. Tony felt _betrayed_. Deeply, deeply betrayed.

Peter didn’t seem to get what he’d done to him. He only kept on babbling happily.

“You need to smile! And we need to finish for Christmas Eve! Papa’s here and the tree’s not finished and you haven’t started cooking! What are we supposed to eat?” He paused shortly, clearly thinking of something critical, but before Steve or Tony could say anything he continued, “Do we have enough to eat? Daddy!” He nearly screamed at Tony. The volume of his voice distracted the genius shortly from his obviously suffering husband. “Do we have enough food? Papa needs to eat a lot! Do we need to go grocery shopping? _Can_ we go grocery shopping? Or do we have to ask FRIDAY?”

He was halfway to ordering groceries worth a whole supermarket and _that_ Tony had to stop. Though he could still remember a time where he hadn’t been any different.

“Woah, woah, slow down, kid.”

“Yes, I’m sure Daddy’s got it covered, Pete” Steve added for good measure and yet again Tony was glad to have him by his side where parenting was concerned. He had a way of stoically delivering bad news, or at least news that Peter didn’t want to hear about. Like right now, when he looked disappointed that the grocery shopping was already done. Tony didn’t know where he’d gathered that strong interest in buying food, but he had it.

To exactly no one’s surprise Peter threw first Steve and then Tony a suspicious look. Obviously he was trying to find another excuse to get out of the house, totally unaware of the crowds of people that would be out doing exactly what Tony had learned to avoid: last minute shopping, be it groceries or Christmas presents.

In the end he couldn’t seem to find anything, only asked if they really, _really_ were sure. Like _really_.

It made Tony and Steve chuckle at the same time. Which finally seemed to convince the boy that they were covered for the holidays, at least as far as food was concerned.

“Then we need to finish the tree! Come on, Papa!” Peter dashed off, back into the living room.

Sharing a look and a smile with his husband, Steve took two careful steps and pulled Tony against his side, pressing his lips to his temple before letting their son pull him away towards the tree that was still missing tinsel and the star on top, as Peter happily informed him.

With the smile still playing around his lips Tony watched his boys, lost in the familiarity and the feeling of home and love, until Peter’s eyes widened yet again.

“Daddy!” He sounded scandalized beyond compare and Tony already thought something had happened, but then the kid basically screamed, “Dinner!”

And dropped everything and rushed past Tony into the kitchen. Which could only mean one thing: Peter wanted to help. Which was both adorable and exhausting. As much as he was trying to help most of the time Tony had to stop his enthusiasm before it got out of hand.

Peter was already pulling out pots and a pan to put on the stove when Tony joined him.

“I see you got it covered, kid. Totally like your Papa, taking command of everything immediately.”

“Someone needs to, Daddy. You just stand around and do nothing!”

Steve was clearly amused by that snide remark. Tony could see it already that he wanted to agree with the kid, out loud, and precautionary sent a deadpan look his way that dared him to say something to that. Being the little shit that his husband was, though, he took a careful breath and said, “You really should get to it, Tony. You can’t loaf around all afternoon. Someone needs to cook dinner.”

Tony understood the remark. After all, he’d never set foot into a kitchen before they’d had Peter besides for coffee. But since they’d had an infant around and Steve had been unnecessarily caught up at his day job at SHIELD Tony had taken it upon himself to get a warm meal on the table at least once a day. FRIDAY had been an enormous help with that, preventing not only once that he’d set the whole kitchen on fire.

“You’re lucky I already love you because with that attitude you’re walking a thin line, Rogers.” Tony passed by his husband and followed Peter into the kitchen. Steve only smirked.

They finished preparing the chicken Tony had picked out to be their dinner and once it was cooking away in the oven they took care of the tree. Tony could see that Steve still had problems, bending down, picking things up, still favoring his right side, but the man was stubborn. He didn’t let Peter know he wasn’t alright. Tony was still worried. If he could have it his way Steve would be in medical, not wincing when he wanted to lift his son into his arms. A task he was usually able to perform even with Tony without breaking a sweat thanks to the super soldier serum, never mind their son.

But he doubted he could do that to Peter now that he knew his Papa was home. And he didn’t want to be the one to ruin Christmas. He’d suffered through enough of those for three lifetimes.

The rest of the team came just in time for the chicken to be served. It was a wonderful, peaceful evening. Tony let the joyful babbling wash over him, practically soaked up the atmosphere. It had turned into a tradition to spend Christmas Eve with their fellow Avengers, with their friends, their found family, having a meal together and exchanging presents that would rest under the tree until morning.

When Peter couldn’t get three words out in a row without yawning Bruce suggested they called it a night. The kid protested to that heavily, but was interrupted by his own yawning regularly, making the adults laugh softly. It took a little convincing, but in the end the other Avengers were allowed to leave and Steve maneuvered the three of them onto the couch. The TV was on, showing some kids movie on low volume, in hopes of lulling Peter fully into sleep.

Tony altered between watching his husband and their kid snuggled up between them. Everything was so soft and warm and not for the first time in the last years he thought that he was dreaming. It was all too perfect to be true. A man in his arms that he loved, who loved him, and a child to protect and take care of in a way he’d never thought he’d want, never mind get. Christmas had been a red rag for most of Tony’s life. First spending it without his parents and with the Jarvis’ instead, then all alone when they were all dead, killed, or spent at parties where he could lose himself, be one of many instead of the center of his own attention. Drowned in alcohol and sex most of the time, to forget that he was indeed alone, even in large crowds. But now… The last decade had replaced most of those bad memories and Tony couldn’t think of anything that made him gladder, happier.

His thumb gently traced the vibranium-titanium alloy band that made up his and Steve’s wedding rings. Best damn nine years of his life, he decided. And, if it were up to him, the first of many, many more to come.

Slowly he felt his eyes drifting closed more and more often. The blinking of the tree drove him crazier than he liked to admit, but with his eyes closed he could concentrate on the warmth around him.

Tony was halfway off to sleep himself when the bundle at his side spoke up again, drawing in Tony’s attention.

“Papa? Did you watch the videos?”

Steve smiled down at him. “Every single one.”

Peter scowled. “Which one was your favorite?”

“Pete, I don’t have favorites. I loved them all very much.”

Faster than both Tony and Steve could react the boy had struggled free from their embrace, jumped off the couch and glared at him with fire in his eyes. “So you didn’t watch them! You can’t even pick one!”

“I can’t pick one because they were all wonderful. They kept me going-“

“No!” the boy interrupted what would surely have been a heroic speech. Tony was speechless given Peter’s sudden outburst. Steve wasn’t any more articulate, though Tony was spared his mouth standing open.

“Ok,” was the first thing Steve said once he’d gathered back his ground. Tony saw that Peter suddenly didn’t seem all that sure in his accusations anymore. Steve surely wouldn’t back down from what he wanted to say. There would be a heroic speech after all.

With his breath quickening a little as he scooted towards the edge of the couch Steve threw their son a challenging look, eyebrows raised.

“You want me to pick favorites?”

Peter’s glance darted from Steve to the ground, to Tony and back to Steve. It was somewhat unsure, but he was just as stubborn as his Papa. Certainly stubborn enough to pull through with what he’d started.

“Yes.”

“Well.” Steve took another moment before he continued. Tony could see the tension in Peter’s shoulders rising with every beat.

“Then I’ll have to pick the one from three and a half weeks back, the first Sunday in Advent. The one where you showed me the snowmen you crafted and painted in preschool. You looked so happy and proud of yourself, and all I wanted to do was kiss your cheek at tell you how much I’d loved one of those on my desk. That was the one that made me miss you the most because I wanted to tell you how proud I was.”

The tension was still there, but grew more and more restless by the second. He didn’t know where his Papa was going with this. Tony did. He tried to hide the smile and all his love for the man it stood for in his shoulder.

“The one that made me laugh the most was the one the two of you sent when I was only away for a week. I still don’t know what had you giggling like that, but I saw that neither of could stop, and all you managed to articulate was something about Uncle Clint and pancakes.”

Even now Tony couldn’t help the chuckle and was soon joined by his son. That had been a moment to remember. Birdbrain had wanted to make pancakes for the whole gang, but only managed to make a huge mess. At first Tony hadn’t found that very funny, it had been his kitchen after all and someone needed to clean up afterwards. But when Clint had gathered that all he would accomplish that day would be making a mess, he of course had to make a show of it.

Peter had desperately wanted to share the events of the afternoon, but when they had sat down to record a message, they were both still too wound up. The mission of ‘telling Papa about what a douche Uncle Clint could be’ had been abandoned shortly after, but the squirt had insisted they sent the video nevertheless.

“The one where you told Dad about how Billy ruined your shared project and Ms. Knight didn’t believe you, was the one I watched over and over until I could recite it by heart because I loved the sass going back and forth between you so much.”

Peter’s eyes widened with every word Steve said. Tony could relate, though probably due to different reasons.

“There was even one that made me cry. The video you made FRIDAY record without your Dad knowing it.”

Tony directed his glance back to his husband. He hadn’t known about that. A long lost sense of panic raised its ugly head, one that Tony hadn’t thought he’d get to see again.

At his next words Steve’s eyes were on him. “He was in the workshop which you’re not allowed in without him knowing.” He threw Peter a snide side glance, but his eyes quickly darted back to Tony. His eyes were shining with something dark, but wonderful and Tony couldn’t breathe right. “And you told FRIDAY to zoom in to let me see what he was doing. There was some strange agitation in your voice that I couldn’t place at first, but when I saw what he was looking at, I knew.”

Tony knew, too. There was only one thing that wouldn’t make Steve cry from joy in the course of December. He couldn’t remember exactly what he’d done in the shop that day, but on December 16th everything sooner or later came down to Howard and Maria’s death. Now Tony’s throat had closed up for good and drove the tears to the corners of his eyes.

“I don’t hate many things, but it hate that I wasn’t there that day.”

Tony thought he hated that, too. It’s not that he’d needed his husband, but the last years it had been easier. Especially concerning not to spiral down to dark places like he’d had before their relationship had started.

For a moment longer Steve’s gaze bore through him, right to the back of his skull. Then his eyes flew back to Peter. Tony still couldn’t breathe right, but it was getting easier, knowing that Steve should’ve, would’ve dropped everything if he had been able to.

“I loved each and every video you two sent me. They made me feel like I was with you, even though I was miles away. And that last one…” His voice trailed off along with his gaze. Tony frowned. Which had been the last video he’d sent Steve? What in it could’ve evoked that reaction from him?

Steve took a shaky breath. “That last one is the one that pulled me through to the finish line. Had it been up to your Auntie Nat we would’ve taken the safer route, but then we wouldn’t have made it in time for Christmas. In time to be with you and your Dad and all the others.”

Suddenly Tony remembered the last video and blanched. FRIDAY, the traitor, must’ve sent it on her own because Tony certainly hadn’t. He wouldn’t have shown Steve the obvious sorrow he caused not only his husband, but most of all his son with his continued absences. His eyes darted to Peter.

The boy stood in the middle of the room, Christmas tree in his back, and looked torn between shame, regret and reluctant joy. Tony hadn’t seen his face with emotions that mixed since he’d come home from preschool and told them some of the other kids had teased him because of his parentage.

“You believe me now that I got and watched all the videos you and Dad sent me?”

A slow nod until suddenly the kid broke out in tears and stormed into Steve’s open arms. Burying his face in his Papa’s shoulder Peter sobbed his heart out, words spilling out of him without end.

“’M sorry, Papa! I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you! Daddy always told me you got them and that you watched them because we’re important to you, but I didn’t believe him and I’m sorry. And, and you never answered any one of them, not even the ones _I_ sent you and-“

Wait. Had Peter just said he’d sent videos of his own? Tony’s eyebrows shot up towards his hairline. His son and his AI must’ve collaborated behind his back on that because Tony certainly wouldn’t have approved any of it.

“-and I was so _sure_ you didn’t want anything to do with us anymore and FRIDAY said you’d call back when you had the time and you never did! And Rita form preschool said her father did the same when he left her and her mom and I know that you wouldn’t leave just like that, but I was so _angry_ that you wouldn’t even be home for Christmas! And-“

“Peter,” Steve interrupted, gently pulling his face back from his shoulder. “Take a breath in between sentences.”

With a smile he thumbed the remaining tears and stains from Peter’s cheeks. The little boy shook with the amount of air he greedily sucked into his lungs and actually was silent for a couple of moments.

Tony watched with rapt attention as his boys made their peace. It made his heart feel light in a way it hadn’t in a couple of months.

The kid dragged the back of his hand over his nose and dragged up the remaining snot. “’M sorry.”

“I know, buddy.” He pulled Peter back into an embrace. “I know. I’m sorry, too. And I promise I’m not going to worry you like this in the future again.”

Over the boy’s shoulder Steve smiled a rueful smile at his husband and mouthed another _‘Sorry. Love you’_ , kissed the top of Peter’s head and beckoned Tony to join their hugging.

In the arms of his husband, their son squeezed in between them, Tony couldn’t help but feel his heart fill with light and warmth and love for his family. He wouldn’t simply forgive and forget. They definitely had to discuss Steve’s involvement with SHIELD - _again_ \- and see to it that the relationship with his son didn’t have to suffer any more than it already did.

Tony had never believed in Christmas spirit, but right now, face buried in the crook of Steve’s neck, Peter’s hair slightly tingling at his nose, the lights of the Christmas tree annoyingly cheerfully blinking away in the background, he thought that maybe it was time to change that attitude.

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr is [here](https://little-miss-chaos.tumblr.com/) and if you want to share the story there that link is [here](https://little-miss-chaos.tumblr.com/post/189865884967/its-called-christmas-spirit)


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